Mysterious Stranger
by The Obsidian Angel
Summary: Years ago, Stanton supposedly murdered his son, Darien, in a rebellion against the Atrox. Centuries later, Darien is back with cruel intentions, the help of Cassandra, and the same undying thrist to finish off his father.
1. Prolouge

The general led the victorious soldiers onto the chaotic battle field. He wrinkled his nose as the smell of death drifted through the air, strong and putrid. Each step was bloodier than the last as they entered, corpses rotting at their feet. Many of the men flinched as swarms of writhing bodies came grasping at their ankles, begging them for the reclamation of life or at least a quick and painless death.

_What happened?_ The general thought, disgusted by their pathetic pleas. _What happened to your hope and morality? Your truth and justice_? It was only weeks ago that they had stood, in pride and blatant ignorance, preaching of rebellion of the Atrox. Now they lay upon the muddy ground, their fingernails torn raw with dirt and blood, grasping for his mercy. He chuckled at their persistence.

"Then you have seen the error of your ways?"

Many of them nodded rapidly, obviously unable to speak from the tears of agony flowing from their stained, blood- stricken countenances.

"And you have abandoned your foolish dreams of hope and liberty?"

They all nodded, now crying impatiently, unearthly moans reverberating from their throats.

He sighed, exhaustedly, before smiling down upon them in pity. In their eyes he saw the souls of ancient friends. Well companions to be exact, for he did not have any "friends". They only brought turmoil and shone light upon the silly ideals that these fools had preached so confidently about. But as always, in the end, the Atrox prevailed. A thousand times had an idiotic rebellion rose to triumph their master, and a thousand times had they been silenced. He continued to stare down at the men, if you could call them that, for the battle had left them broken. He parted his lips to speak, and for a moment he could almost feel a flash of sympathy flickering through his eyes. Hastily blinking it away, the usual ruthless manner returned.

"Then you have all died in vain". And before their agonized eyes could widen in cowardice, they all fell limp to the ground. The general grimaced as the final grasp loosened on his ankle. He looked over his shoulder to see each of his men gawking at him in bewilderment and utter terror. This was nothing new. His power was questionable, but not by many. For he had risen from the frightened boy that he had been only centuries ago. That child was dead to him now, just as any warm recollection of his childhood, a faint whisper in the wind.

"Stanton", called a soldier from the back of the troop.

"Excuse me?"

"General". He redeemed himself, his voice wavering in fear.

Stanton nodded, giving the weaker man permission to speak.

The man only motioned behind him, and having spun around just in time, he forced the sword from his attacker's hand and flung them both to the ground. Retrieving the sword, he pointed it towards the man's throat.

"Are you so foolish to believe that you could defeat me with such a humanly weapon?"

"No", the man choked, loathing clear in his eyes. "But if nothing else, I could at least have the pleasure of running the blade through your heart".

"Show your face", Stanton demanded, annoyed by the silver helmet, covering the man's head. "Are you ashamed of your beliefs? Of your cause?"

"Not me", the man whispered, directing his hatred at the mass of corpses at his feet, each of which who had been so willing to give in.

"Surrender". Stanton stated, simply, sure that the man would succumb. "The others certainly had no problem-"

"I'm not like the others". The young man roared, shoving the sword point from his throat. "They fight for a petty cause. For an easy way out. They deserved their fate".

Stanton laughed at the boy's feeble attempt to redeem himself. To make himself out to be more than what he really was. "And I suppose that you don't?"

He did not respond. He only rose from his place on the ground and continued to scowl. Unlike his predecessors, his fight did not seem to be with the Atrox, but with Stanton alone. "I cannot predict what fate has in store for me", he finally spoke, a dark aura radiating from his silhouette. "But whatever may come, I know that I will not give up without a fight". And with that he lunged at Stanton, to be immediately attacked with a blow of the mind. Staggering back, he fell to the ground, his eyes blank and empty.

Stanton sighed and shook his head. Walking over to the corpse, now settling in the mass of blood and earth, he reached for the muddy, helmet, now as dark as the tarnished hope of their rivals. With a tug, he pulled it from the man's head, his eyes widening at what he saw there. He ignored the fit of gasps and gossip behind him as he unsuccessfully struggled to wake the man. But it was no use. Death, as life, was unpredictable and random. It was unfathomable of who would do the deed and who would be the one to fall. Stanton stared on for a while longer, brushing a few lonely strands of blonde from the man's emotionless eyes. Then, swallowing his sentiment, he continued on, unwilling to give his men any reason to believe that he was a kind and gentle leader. The event had only advocated the purpose for his being there in the first place. Rising from his spot on the ground, he continued on through the bloody graveyard, the stare of his only son's void, empty eyes etched deep into the realms of his soul forever.


	2. Chapter One

Darien cursed as he rose from the hard, cement concrete of the Dungeon, roars of techno music still exploding from the notorious club.

"Sorry", hissed a maniacal follower, smirking cruelly down at him. "No losers allowed".

Darien scowled and lunged at the boy once more, only to be knocked across the concrete with a blow of the mind.

"What's the matter, Tymmie?" he asked, the whispers seeping from his lips like venom. "Too afraid to fight me like a man?" He grinned as the cruel smile faded into a loathing glare. It was a known fact that despite a follower's mental power, many of them were physically weak. With a few exceptions. His grave expression returned, recollecting who he had come there looking for.

"I've come to see Stanton"

A high- pitched cackle arose from the back of the now on-looking crowd and a teenage blonde in a silky, red dress stepped forward to greet him. "What makes you think that the Prince of Night would want to see you?"

"I have a proposition for him", Darien responded, wiping a few specks of red from his lips with the back of his hand. He was sure that his eyes were glowing with some sort of fiery malice, but he could care less. For this was the moment that he had waited for all of his life, and he would not let them deprive him of it. He smiled, knowingly into every conniving face of the Atrox, and he could tell that they were secretly frightened by him. Was it possible that they could sense the age and knowledge in his eyes? His attention was averted by a lone, blank expression in the crowd. A young girl stared out at him, locks of dark red hair, flowing down her back. Her eyes were completely set in concentration and he felt almost as if she could see into his soul.

"Who are you, boy and what business do you have with Stanton?" Yvonne asked, her tone thick with hatred.

"My name is Darien and my business with Stanton is none of your concern"

"Stanton doesn't-"

"Can't the Dark Prince speak for himself?"

He tensed as a crimson fire lit in her eyes. She apparently did not take defiance well. He nodded and began to gather his own energy in preparation for her attack. When it came, it immediately bounced from his force field and sent her staggering back. She rocked from side to side for a moment before regaining her usual grounded state. She then looked up at him, bewilderment crossing her features. He caught the redhead in the crowd gaping at him in amusement. But she didn't seem as angry or confused as the others. If anything, she expressed some sort of joy or respect for him. He shrugged and gave her a half smile, before turning back to his enemies. The music had stopped and the humans had fled, sensing the evil in their midst. The large digital clock above them, struck twelve, midnight and he could feel the imminent crackle of the Atrox's energy building throughout the atmosphere. He tensed as Yvonne stepped towards him followed by Tymmie and a number of other followers.

"Traitor", she accused her voice one of a snake. "Have you committed treason against the Atrox?"

He stared downward, struggling to hold back his laughter. _When?_ He thought. _Pick a time period. Pick a place_. His entire life was an infinite rebellion against the Atrox. It was the main focus in his every dream and waking hour. It was his sole purpose and motivation.

"Answer me", she spat.

"I will answer only to your prince"

"Have it your way", she grinned and with that, they all exploded into an unknown chant and began to close in around him like a mass of vultures. His eyes grew wide as he realized that he was falling under their spell. He grasped for the last grains of reality before plunging into the lonely depths of darkness that existed only in their eyes, for the virtues of faith and hope had been long abandoned there. An explosion roared from somewhere within the dark void and sure that he had failed, he let himself float in the black abyss and waited for death. Had centuries of planning and searching amounted to nothing? Was he doomed to such a fate as this? After a matter of seconds, he felt himself slipping back. Back to familiar sounds and the glare of fluorescent lights. Back to reality. He squinted up at the ceiling and realized that he was sprawled across the ground. The swarm of followers had disappeared and he was able to make out a mass of flames engulfing the club. Panicking, he jumped up and quickly melted into a shadowy state before gliding out of a high, club window. Once in the night sky, he settled down upon the soft grass and took his true form once more. His eyes scanned the building. Smoke was now pouring from the windows and troops of police cars were pulling up. He heard the alarm of fire trucks and ambulances ringing through the sky. Pulling his jacket from his waist, he wrapped it over his shoulders, shivering from the cool, night air. He looked up to see a picture perfect crescent moon and stars glistening clearly in the sky.

"What happened?" He turned to see an attractive blonde whispering to her friends.

"What _doesn't _happen when the Atrox is involved?" A shorter brunette piped up, a belly ring glowing from above her waist. Darien, intrigued now, tilted his head to eavesdrop of their conversation.

"You don't think that Stanton was in there, do you?" A redhead asked, her eyes full of concern.

"No, and even if he was, he would have escap-"

"Did you mention Stanton?" Darien intervened, before realizing that the crazy look had returned to his eyes. He tried to look casual.

"Why?" The redhead asked him suspiciously.

His eyebrows furrowed as he searched for a valid explanation. Then, before he could respond, a hand took him by the shoulder and pulled him around to the back of the building.

"What the hell?" He spun around to get a glimpse of his captor. Finally he looked down to see the girl that had been eying him at the club, a bomb grenade clutched tightly in her hand.

"You started that fire? But-"

She smiled and put a finger to his lips. Then, brushing a few strands of maroon hair from her eyes, she began to speak. "Darien, is it?" She took his hand in hers, and he trembled from the cold in her touch. "I'm Cassandra, and I think that I can help you find what you're looking for".


	3. Chapter Two

"Stanton was my first love". She spoke to him in a distant, faraway voice, her eyes empty and emotionless. "He was my only love". They immediately clouded with fiery emotion, and he was sure that she would cry, but despite his assumption, she only smiled up at him from the wooden cot in her ran down apartment.

"Potato chips?" She offered, holding up a bag. When he declined them, she tossed the bag across the room. "He left me… for a daughter. A Goddess of the Moon", she hissed the words so that they were twisted and bent to be interpreted as filth or lower.

"And I take it that you weren't comfortable with his decision". He almost regretted his asking from the pang of loss and sorrow that clouded over the girl's teary eyes. He cursed to himself. How many times had he endured this? How many times was he made to stare into the hopeless depths of a woman's eyes? A woman tarnished by the empty promises of the dark prince.

"No, I love him still as I have for the past lonely years".

"Then why are you so eager to turn him over to me?"

A familiar glint caught the girl's eyes and he immediately caught her purpose. It was similar to his.

_Do you really, Cassandra?_ He asked her with his mind. _Do you really mean to harm your true love?_

She nodded, a single tear falling from her cheek.

He smirked and turned away. Poor girl. He hated to use her. It was obvious that she was too weak to follow the plan through completely. Somewhere in-between, she would stop and plead with him to abandon his life long purpose. But it would be too late. By then, her prince would be dead if not worse. He turned to smile into the girl's mirthless eyes. "Then shall we begin?"

* * *

"Darien Weiss"

He sat, staring into space for a few seconds before recognizing the pseudonym. He then raised his hand and flailed it in the air momentarily before laying back down upon the desk.

"Mr. Weiss", his homeroom teacher spoke. "I believe the correct expression is 'here'".

"Well, everyone is entitled to their opinion, Ms. Glass", he responded, earning him a few chuckles from the back of the class.

"Just what I need", she wrinkled her nose and slipped the attendance sheet into a desk drawer. "Another wise guy".

Darien only shrugged. He wasn't very happy about the arrangement either, but Cassandra had assured him that it was the only way that he could fit in and be closer to Stanton for that matter. Turning to his side, he caught the stare of the same blonde from the night of the fire. His eyes widened when he realized that they had never finished their conversation.

"Is there a problem?" She asked, her eyes now on what seemed to be mathematics.

"Well, you _are_ doing Algebra in English class".

She cocked an eyebrow at his lame attempt at a conversation.

"And I'm disappointed that you don't remember me".

She stared at him for a few seconds before recognition sprung across her features. "Oh, the guy from the fire, right?"

"Darien", he corrected her.

"I'm Vanessa. Nice to meet you. Why did you leave so soon?"

"I had business elsewhere". He decided to get to the point. "You never answered my question".

Her eyebrows furrowed. "About Stanton? You would have to ask Serena". He noticed that her expression warped into one of disgust at the mention of Stanton. Darien raised an eyebrow. How many girls had he screwed over in this town?

"Serena?" He asked. "You mean the redhead?"

She nodded. "Serena Killingsworth. Wherever you find her, he's bound to be lingering around somewhere". She turned to eye him suspiciously. "Why are you interested?"

He paused and then responded with what was anything but a lie. "He hurt someone very dear to me".

She took his hands in hers, sorrow now flooding her eyes. "I'm sorry".

"I don't want your sympathy", he muttered bitterly. "But thank you for your time". With that, the bell rang signifying that the fifteen minutes of division were up. Leaving the blonde awestruck, he grabbed his books and walked casually out of the room.

* * *

"Serena", he called to the redhead across the grassy La Brea High campus. When he reached her, he was met with an icy, cold glare.

"I know what you are", she spoke loathingly.

"And how would you know this?"

"I'm a daughter. A goddess of the moon"

"I figured that", he nodded. "Then you somehow slipped into my mind that night. What else did you see?"

"Just enough to tell what you are. What do you want from Stanton?"

He turned away from her so that she couldn't see the wild anger in his eyes. "Only revenge for a lifetime of pain and deceit".

Her eyes grew sympathetic. "I'm sorry for whatever he-"

"Sorry doesn't cut it, Serena", he turned to glare at her. "You'll learn that soon enough. He doesn't love you, you know. He isn't capable"

"That's not true"

"Serena, hasn't he hurt everyone he's ever loved?"

"But I'm… I'm-"

"Different?" He laughed. So many misled souls. Situations such as hers only deepened his hatred for the man. "That's what she thought".

"Who is _she_?"

He started to respond when his eyes caught another. He stared, petrified in shock and anger as Stanton approached them. It had been over a century since their last encounter, yet the memory of his face was still so clear that Darien had immediately recognized him.

"Serena"

Darien shuddered as he watched him wrap his arms around the girl's waist.

"What's the ma-" Stanton trailed off as he stared into the boy's eyes, the color identical to his own.

"Stanton?" Serena asked, looking up at him in concern.

"Leave us"

"Stanton"

"Serena", he challenged her. She finally shrugged and walked away towards another girl. He watched as she grew more and more distant, before turning back to Darien. "It's been a while".

Darien only chuckled and brushed a few blonde strands from his eyes. This would be interesting.

"I thought you were-"

"Dead?" Darien finished for him, unable to keep the wild and dangerous spark from his eyes. "Yes, it did seem that way, didn't it? After you beat me and left me to die".

Stanton smirked in amusement at his eagerness. "You were a leader of the rebellion. What did you expect?"

"I was also your son, or have you forgotten?"

"I didn't know", Stanton put a hand to his forehead. "I really didn't know". He lowered his hand and eyed him in concern. "Is that why you've come? To avenge a false death?"

Darien laughed, a mirthless laugh, void of happiness or joy. "I've come to avenge my mother. I've come to avenge my cursed life".

"I'm sorry", Stanton sighed. "I didn't mean to-"

"To what? To take advantage of her innocence? To give her a child that she didn't want? Do you know how hard it is to walk the streets day after day with the knowledge that I was the creation of your brutality and twisted amusement?"

Stanton nodded, obviously defeated. "Is there nothing I can do to make it up to you?"

"Was there ever?" He shook his head. "No, nothing but the sight of your cursed blood flowing from your rotting corpse".

"Well then", started Stanton, gravely. "You leave me no choice".


	4. Chapter Three

Authors Note: I had to change the summary because it obviously wasn't as clear as it should have been. Sorry if it caused confusion! :)

* * *

Darien ran his fingertips over the emerald medallion. It had been a gift from his mother and ever since the day that he had received it, it was seldom removed. Sighing, he stared up from his place on the dirt, brown couch as Cassandra prepared for a night at the Dungeon. Most of the building had survived the fire although the rest was closed off for renovation. Her black jean pantsuit was tight and skimpy, not leaving much to the imagination. Tresses of gleaming, maroon hair poured down her back and he couldn't help but wonder what his father's excuse was for leaving her. She turned to him, a smirk dancing upon her flawless features. She had obviously felt his eyes on her. 

"Are you sure you're not coming?"

He nodded in response. "I'm not very popular there".

She nodded, understanding. Ever since his little episode at the club, the Followers had been searching for him, curious as to his purpose and interest in their prince.

"I could help get them off your back"

He only laughed. "Don't bother". He rose to help her fit a raven collar across her slender neck, a crimson heart hanging from its chain. "They're the least of my concern".

She smiled a little before a slight haze of sorrow grew in her eyes. He sensed her apprehension. "What's the matter?"

"You're just like him, you know".

"Just like him?"

"Stanton", she whispered. When he didn't respond, she decided to continue. "Your eyes-"

"I have my mother's eyes", he spat, not meaning to sound so harsh. "We only share the color".

"Oh, Darien", she turned around before slipping her arms around his neck, an almost evil smile playing on her lips. "You're in denial".

He only pushed her away. "Go now. The night's waiting"

"The night is still young", she responded, still toying with him.

"Fine", he smirked. "I'll go". And leaving her in utter surprise, he picked up his jacket and headed for the door.

* * *

"Back to the end of the line", the masculine security guard glared down on him, daring him to retaliate. Darien only grinned and seeped into the man's mind. Humans were so easily deceived. It was almost pathetic. A look of confusion spread across the guard's face. "What was I doing?" 

"You were letting me in", Darien reminded him.

"Oh… oh right", the man stammered, moving aside so that he could enter the club. Darien moved along, despite the screaming of angry teenagers who had unjustly witnessed his manipulative scheme. He glanced up at the stage to see the Vanessa dancing, a strange, but enticing melody flowing from her lips.

_In the depths of your shadow glows an eternal light_

He stopped to listen to her words, so steadily pulling him in, as a tiger stalks its prey.

_There's a key to my fire only you can ignite_

He felt a presence behind him.

_My demon lover_

A hand took him by the shoulder, sending him out of his trance. He immediately flinched, his eyes widening. He cursed when he saw who had confronted him.

"Beautiful isn't it?" Stanton asked, staring as the words so smoothly flowed from Vanessa's lips. "The story of a darker love".

"Your story, I presume?"

The man nodded.

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

Stanton chuckled a little before changing the subject. "I see you had no trouble getting in".

"Only following your example", he shot back. "I thought it was clear. We're enemies now".

Stanton gazed at him. Was that regret in his eyes? "I know", he sighed. "But I would hate to destroy you".

Darien cocked an eyebrow.

"Again", he added. Then before they could further their conversation, Serena, Vanessa, and two other girls walked over.

"So how'd I do?" Vanessa asked the others, enthusiastically.

"You did great", Darien intervened. They all looked up to stare at him, curiosity in their eyes. Serena turned to Stanton.

"You never introduced me to your friend".

"We're not friends", Darien immediately countered. He looked on at both of them. They were now having some kind of mental conversation. Serena was obviously annoyed. He sneered as Stanton's eyebrows furrowed. Was it possible that something could make his highness sweat? This was surely nothing that he had ever witnessed before.

"Are you new here?" The girl with dark, long hair asked from his side, a huge smile covering his face. "What's you're name, stranger?"

"Darien", he responded, taking his eyes off of Stanton. "Darien Weiss".

"I'm Catty", she held out her hand and he reluctantly took it. She turned to the bickering couple. "Don't mind it. There's always _something_ with them".

The hungry look lit his eyes again. "Perhaps you could tell me more about it". He grinned charmingly, creeping slowly into her mind in attempt to make her more agreeable.

"Well, he's only risked his life for her a thousand times-"

"_Chica_", the raven haired girl interrupted. "Don't you think you're talking a little bit too much?"

"Oh", Catty shook her head before turning away from him. "Sorry. I don't know what got into me". She patted him on the shoulder. "I'll talk to you later". With that she grabbed Vanessa by the arm and dashed off onto the dance floor, their bodies moving with the rhythm of fast paced techno music. Darien turned back to Stanton and Serena, who were now in each other's arms staring at him, a look of fierce accusation in their eyes. He had apparently told her what she wanted to know.

_Love?_ He thought to himself as he went over the information that Catty had just entrusted in him. A smirk crossed his face as he watched him slide an arm around her. So gentle. So protective. _Possibly._

"Later", he waved and started the other way, and before they could stop him, he was out of the EXIT door. What he wanted to do, he couldn't do there. He would wait until tomorrow. Then she'd be alone.

* * *

The music room was small in width with an incredibly high ceiling. The morning sun streamed in, immersing the newly painted chair stands in a bright illumination. He watched as Serena glanced up to admire the radiant glow of the sun, although her true love was for the moon and the shadows in the night. She slowly bent down to reach her cello when he stepped into the room. 

"Serena", he greeted her. She only stepped back, alarmed by his presence.

"What are you doing here?" She spoke venomously.

"I wanted to talk to you". She turned to run the opposite way, but he only blocked her path. "Because I don't want to hurt you". She sighed exasperatedly and rushed the other way, only to be stopped. "But you're leaving me no choice". And before she could make her move, he took her by the wrists and flung her against the wall, holding her in place. She wriggled and thrashed around in an effortless attempt to escape, but it was no use. Finally realizing that she wouldn't get loose if she didn't stop struggling, she let herself fall limp and just glared at him with those forest green eyes. She shifted her weight a bit and turned to the side. If they had been any closer, he would be smothering her.

"This isn't very comfortable for me", he spoke in mock irritation. "Is it for you?"

She only continued to glare.

"Will you listen now?"

She paused a while before nodding. Then gradually he backed away from her, still keeping her in close range so that she could not escape.

"I need you to break up with Stanton"

"What?" She spat.

"Shh", he put a finger to her lips. "It's for your own good".

"What does your revenge on Stanton have to do with me?"

He laughed. "It has everything to do with you as you're obviously the only thing he gives a damn about anymore".

Her eyes widened: Astonishment that she could be the force that would lead to her lover's downfall.

"Now I'm giving you a chance to survive".

She looked up: Hope that she could save a doomed relationship.

"You can either break it off now and save yourself, or I'll do it. And believe me Serena, when you fall, you'll fall hard".

She shook her head. "Never": Stubborn faith that their love was inevitable.

He was growing frustrated now. "I'm offering you mercy on a silver platter. Why won't you take it?"

A death glare warped into her features and without hesitation her eyes scorched into his.

"I'd sooner die". Then, daring him to stop her, she fled from the room. He wouldn't interfere. He had asked for an answer and she had given it. From the outside of the door, he could see her rushing away, her emerald green eyes flaming: Foolish determination that existed only in a star crossed lover's heart.


	5. Chapter Four

Darien leaned back against the dark, stone walls of the Dungeon, black paint chipping from the surface. Roaring sound waves pulsated throughout them from the stage where a heavy metal band howled uncontrollably, long dark wisps, sweeping over their eyes. Darien grimaced a bit at the throng of drug- induced teenagers crowding the notorious club, their bodies jumping wildly to the beat, their eyes in a trance- like state. Their souls were barren, empty capsules to be used only when the Atrox saw fit. They were all just pawns in its malevolent scheme for world domination.

"Hey". A redhead, probably an initiate, came strutting towards him, a thigh high mini dress clutching to her hips. "Why are you standing here all alone?" She gave him a playful smile and slipped her caramel arms around his neck.

He gave a dry smirk. "I'm not exactly the social type".

"You're a _loner_?" She pouted a little before bouncing back to her jovial mood. "But that's no fun".

He shrugged, gently pushing her away from him. "Sometimes it's better that way".

She crossed her arms, flipping a few strands of crimson from her hazel colored eyes. "Well, _I'm_ not alone".

He felt a knowing snarl coming on. _Denial_.

_Are you sure about that? _He let the wordstrail across her mind and he immediately felt her uneasiness. He had touched the deepest realms of her soul in which she had struggled so desperately to veil. Unfortunately, she had failed. Now infinite thoughts and sleepless nights would wreak havoc upon her, an agonizing reminder of the dilemma that she had attempted to mask here. Then before he could force her any further into the corner that was reality, she turned on her heel, giving him a grin that seemed particularly difficult to maintain. "You're weird"

"What can I say?" He shrugged. "I was born from the devil himself". The girl gave him a final inquisitive stare before disappearing off into the crowd, probably to return home, for whatever she was searching for, she hadn't found it here. Sighing, he resumed his place against the walls when a hand took him by the shoulder. His eyebrows furrowing, he spun around to face his confronter. His expression softened at what he saw there.

"Cassandra", he grinned, relieved by her sudden appearance. "Where have _you_ been?"

"Well", she started, tossing her maroon tresses over her shoulders. "While you were torturing little girls, I was clearing your name with the Cincti".

"And how did you manage that?"

She only laughed. A musical sound like water playing on glass, escaped from her lips. "I told them that you were just a wayward follower. Completely harmless".

He cocked an eyebrow. "And they believed you?"

"Anyone would be crazy to suggest that_ I_ would aid in harming Stanton. Of course they believed me".

"Then I must be crazy".

She smiled wickedly, catching the uncertainty in his eyes. "Don't worry". She took his hand to her lips and planted a kiss upon it, gentle but hungry. Innocent but seductive. She averted her deep, captivating eyes to his. "I'll protect you".

He smirked. It amused him how she made constant vows to be his guardian. His savior. But they both knew the truth. "Cassandra, you're only human. You're not strong enough to protect me".

"I know", she pouted in mock disappointment before taking both his hands and placing them tightly against her waist. "Dance with me?"

His entire body tensed, joints immediately hardening up like dry clay. He couldn't remember the last time that he had courted a woman, let alone danced.

"I can't", he gave her a wry smile and turned to leave, perfectly aware that his eyes said otherwise.

"Of course you can", she whispered softly into his ear as she moved in closer. He succumbed a bit, enjoying the feel of her silky, scarlet mini against his fingertips. He slowly worked his way up past her flat, bare waist and towards her hair where maroon waterfalls cascaded down her back. A few wisps flew crazily over her deep, gleaming eyes, rocking from side to side as her body moved sensuously under his palms. Then catching the scars upon her chest, he took a swift jolt back to reality. Realizing his situation, he backed away. He wouldn't become emotionally involved. It would only make his mission more difficult. Her cursed scars had been a reminder of that. Her eyebrows furrowed. "What's wrong?"

He stared sympathetically down into those mesmerizing eyes. She had witnessed so much, yet she still remained so… _innocent_.

"Darien". He turned at the sound of his name to see Tymmie walking towards him, and wherever Tymmie roamed, Karyl wouldn't stray too far behind. He grimaced at their appearance. Next to the various hoops and barbells piercing through their skin, Darien's ear and cartilage ring seemed like nothing. He nodded in greeting, and watched as Tymmie gave his trademark sneer and threw an ink covered arm around Cassandra's waist.

"He bothering you?" The white- blonde inquired, his eyes mischievous.

"I'm fine, Tymmie", she muttered and pulled away from him to take her place back beside Darien. "I told you-"

"It's alright Cassandra", Darien cut in. He turned to Tymmie, his deep, blue eyes, challenging. "I'm not looking for your trust".

"No", Karyl chimed in. "You're looking for our prince. We're just curious as to why".

Darien opened his mouth to stall while grasping for a valid justification, until he noticed that the crowd had ceased to throb. Even the band that had been thrashing so wildly only seconds ago, had silenced. Darien cocked an eyebrow and followed their inquisitive expressions to the doorway.

Tymmie grinned maliciously and gave Karyl a complicated handshake. "I guess we're about to find out".

Stanton passed through the doorway and into the dark club, drenching from the rain. His blonde hair hung in wet clumps, clinging to his skin. Darien averted his eyes to meet those of the Dark Prince, a flame of sapphire rage. Stunned, Darien stumbled back, a worried Cassandra clutching his shoulders. Stanton took sharp steps across the floor, every footstep heard and reverberated throughout the room. The crowd divided as he neared them, making a path for their prince.

"Stanton", Cassandra whispered to herself. Darien turned to stare at her, surprised at her melancholy state. Her eyes were glossy now, entranced and pensive. Darien winced as a pang of anger rushed through his chest. _Jealousy?_ He thought to himself. _No_. He couldn't be jealous. He had known more vivacious women over much longer periods of time, yet his heart never fell captive to them. Why should he be influenced now? Stanton was closer now, the last group of party- goers, dispersing. Finally he stood in front of them, his aura menacing, pure murder in his eyes.

"_What_ did you say to her?" He reached for his son, but Cassandra pulled him from his grasp.

"Stanton, wai-"

_You said that this was between you and me. You never insinuated that she would be involved._

"Stanton-"

_I told you that I would avenge my mother and if that means involving your goddess, so be it._

Stanton trembled, a yellow glow falling over his eyes. Then calming himself, he stood still again, the color returning to its normal midnight blue. He smirked a little, his energies growing stronger. "This ends now".

Darien tensed. Was he ready? He moved forward, accepting the challenge. "Ready when you are".

"Darien, you're not strong enough-"

He sighed in annoyance. "Cassandra". He took her by the shoulders. "Get the hell out of here".

Stanton nodded in agreement, though never taking his eyes off of Darien.

"I can't just-"

"GO!" he scolded her, shoving her gently to the side. With that, he gathered his energy, a tight knot growing steadily stronger inside of him. He continued to build, concentrating all of his attentions on that single ball of force. Finally, when he couldn't hold it any longer, he let loose, sending a wave of telepathic energy upon his opponent. Exhausted, he fell to his knees and looked up to see how much damage he had inflicted, only to discover that there was none. Stanton sneered down at him, his arms crossed, a single scratch grazing his cheek. He smirked at Darien's shocked expression as it patched itself back together to reveal clear, unblemished skin.

"Impossible". Darien choked, his eyes wide.

"But it is"

"Stanton!" Cassandra ran at him.

He didn't even bother to look at her. "Get out, Cassandra".

"You can't"

"I'll do what I wish", he raised his voice. "Now go away".

Darien flinched at the hurt look on her features. He had hoped that his verbal blow would chase her off, but she only deepened her persistence.

"Stanton-"

"Run. I'm giving you until the count of three"

"Don't"

"One". He directed his attention at Darien, gathering his energies.

"Please"

"Two". He ceased, ready to unleash his power.

Goddammit, Stanton! Listen to me!"

"Three".

Darien anticipated the blow, but it never came. Opening his eyes, he could see Stanton, his eyes set in awe. Crimson red was now seeping from a deep gash in his cheek. Darien just stared bewildered as his brain worked to uncover what had just happened. Realization finally spilled across his features. Cassandra stood paralyzed, a knife blade resting in her palm. Fresh blood stained the tip and she could only stare as it trickled down the handle and through her pale fingers. Then before anyone could recover from their shocked state, Stanton reared back and threw a blow that sent her staggering towards the wall. A mass of followers sprinted from the spot as she hit the stone and gradually fell to the ground. Darien moved towards her, watching as she rocked back and forth on the dirt ridden foundation, her arms wrapped over her knees, her head tucked into her lap. Long throaty sobs escaped from her lips, suppressed and muffled from beneath her tear- stained arms. Darien searched for words to console her, but he found none. For Stanton had exposed her for what she truly was: helpless. He slipped his arms around her and they both rocked back and forth in a desolate dance, slow and depressing.

"Cassandra", Stanton whispered, his ocean deep eyes flooding with remorse. It seemed as if he were about to apologize when a fist came flying in his direction. He effortlessly tossed it out of the way.

"Mentally or physically, I'm afraid you're no match for me".

'"I beg to differ", Darien lunged at him only to be deflected. He knew that his attack had been rash. Perhaps even trivial. But the instinct to protect her was too strong, and what he had begun, he would finish.

"She gave her life for you"

_Miss_

"Her soul"

_Miss_

"And this is how you repay her?"

_Miss_

He stood, heaving in exhaustion from his effortless attempts, boiling in anger. Finally he swung again, this time landing a blow across the still healing gash that Cassandra had left.

Stanton grimaced.

"But I guess that's just how you get off, huh?"

An obviously annoyed Prince of Darkness scowled and finally sent a well deserved blow slashing across Darien's jaw. Stunned, he backed away and then collapsed to the ground. Unable to move, he groaned from the foundation, too shamed to stare into his father's eyes, too proud to refuse that temptation.

"You were asking for that", Stanton loomed over him, cocking an eyebrow. His expression twisted into a grave one. "What did you say to her?" He restated the purpose for his unexpected visit in the first place.

"Say to_ who_?" Darien coughed, a stream of blood tricking from his lips.

"You know what I'm talking about"

The younger man gave a forced laugh. "I know you talk some crazy shit"

Stanton chuckled with him. "Stubborn till the end. You remind me of-"

"Don't say it", Darien whispered venomously. "And this isn't the end". His mind told him otherwise. He groaned as he started to sink into a dark oblivion and soon Stanton's laughter seemed as distant and distinct as the graceful fall of a snowflake.


End file.
